


Bucky's Buns (A Hair Too Far)

by Apprendere



Series: The Many Hairstyles of James Buchanan Barnes [2]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bonding, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky plays with makeup, Canon What Canon, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hair Braiding, Light Angst, Makeover, Minor appearances from others - Freeform, No one can resist Bucky's hair, canon has been ignored in favor of fluff and feels, not THAT kind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 01:47:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11957124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apprendere/pseuds/Apprendere
Summary: Natasha cannot stand Bucky's favorite of the two hairstyles he knows. She takes it upon herself to remedy that.





	Bucky's Buns (A Hair Too Far)

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been working on this more off than on for the past 8 months, but I finished it. Or at least I can’t stand to do a final, comprehensive, editing run right now.  
> No beta, all mistakes are mine, including losing the wrestling match with getting my desired formatting into Ao3.  
> I still really like the theme, so maybe in another 8 months there will be another one of these.
> 
> Also my first time writing Nat, so… I hope she’s in character. As much as any character that has so many canon writers can be “in character”. So, I guess I mean I hope you enjoy my interpretation of canon and fanon.

It’s the best day Bucky can remember for the past couple weeks. Nothing has gone seriously wrong outside, or inside, his head so far. It’s nothing big usually, just … his brain has a habit of throwing old experiences up on top of what’s happening now. Today though, he’s been content, and present in a way he wishes he knew how to do on purpose.

He’s taking a water break when he notices the sensation at the back of his neck, separate from the hair brushing against it as he re-secures his bun.

His first inkling of the incoming storm is a huff and then the silence in place of Natasha working out.

His instincts ratchet up to eleven and he whirls. Less than a meter away instead of halfway across the gym, Natasha speaks, “No.”

His hands freeze in the middle of putting the rubber band back in his hair.

Bucky can feel his frown deepen as seconds pass and Natasha doesn’t elaborate.

Natasha’s eyes narrow and Bucky flinches when she steps forward.

“You still look like an accidental hipster.”

“What?”

“I gave you two weeks grace to learn how to do more than man-buns and ponytails. If you’re going to do your hair, you need to know enough to choose wisely.” Natasha holds her hand out, palm up and empty. “I’ll teach you to spare myself your floundering.”

Bucky leans back and eyes her. Natasha seems sincere even with that sweetly threatening smile. Slightly intimidated, he takes Natasha’s hand and is lead to the elevator.

Natasha is still, watching the floor number. Bucky fidgets, hands search for pockets and he leans against the wall. Silence holds for a few seconds before Natasha speaks. “Let me dye your hair?”

The doors whoosh open. Bucky clamps his hands over his hair. “Why?”

Natasha steps out and beckons him. “Your appearance is a choice.” She shrugs. “And colour would be a very visible difference between you now and you under their control. I have electric blue left if you’re interested.”

Left from what, he wonders. Bucky follows as Natasha leads him through the sparsely decorated apartment to the master bedroom. Although, Natasha’s words are… accurate. He is very aware that when his hair is up, his reflection gives him a little distance from the Soldier.

Of course, he no longer looks quite like Hydra’s asset even with his hair down. The soldier’s former masters didn’t precisely care about the Soldier’s hygiene past maintaining function, and presentability to potential buyers in some cases.

Bucky is now doubly glad for being free to use shampoo and wash his hair as often as he likes, because if Natasha got to the Winter Soldier with hair dye, he would look like a melting popsicle. Still, he can’t argue that an even bigger difference in the mirror would be welcome. But, he would have to wait months if it turned out not to helpful.

“Come on, in here.” Natasha’s voice is softer in her space. Less manicured and curated before speaking. Natasha beckons from the master bath’s door.

Bucky follows, still unsure of Natasha’s exact purpose. The only words Bucky seems to apply to Natasha’s bathroom are organised and spacious. Which is impressive really, given-

“If you want the dye, we should do that first.” Natasha waves a hand at a rack with not only an array of natural and rainbow hair dyes, but a number of wigs on stands above.

There are shelves of accessories sorted by type, small stands of drawers that seem to be color coded, caddies full of makeup brushes and other arcane cosmetic instruments.

In short, bucky finds it slightly overwhelming.

“Well, what do you think of some color?” Natasha leans back, hip resting against the counter, watching him.

Bucky is aware that sometimes he spends days flip-flopping on a decision. He thinks maybe choosing a whole new hair color should wait until that whole mental process calms down a bit.

“Not now. If you ask me in a few months, well.” Bucky pauses. “I may think about it again later.”

“All right.” Natasha shrugs and pushes away from the counter. “If you’re rebuilding your personal identity, I’m not letting you just fall into man-buns because you don’t know any other way to use your hair.” Natasha opens drawers and pulls things out of cubbies, revealing tins of bobby pins, barrettes, hair ties, curlers, and ribbons. “Come up here, your reflection won’t bite if you don’t let it.” She pats the counter.

The mirror stretches the length of the counter, lit by a bright but soft light strip circling the edge. Bucky notes the rings under his eyes for only a few seconds before focusing on the still growing plethora of hair products and accessories on Natasha’s counter.

“Now, I’m going to teach you how to braid. I will allow you to practice on me to speed up your learning. Once you’ve got that down, you can either leave it at that and be boring, or learn how to add hair as you go, french and german braids and all that. Although, I do have a condition. Once you can crown braid your own hair, I get to put flowers in and take any good reaction blackmail photos.” Natasha smiles.

Bucky can feel his own face lift in response. Even though he suspects the only good reaction will be Steve running for his sketchbook. No good as blackmail material. Steve would be too busy drawing to notice the attempt. The only art he ever got embarrassed about was nudes, and it only lasted a week and that was back in the 1900’s.

“So, watch my fingers. How you hold the hair makes a difference. I’m going to teach you how to make it look professional. If you prefer less polished, I’m sure you can figure it out. First, you’ll learn the right way.”

***

“It’s not- … I can’t.” Bucky shakes his head. “I can’t do it.” His head drops between his shoulders. His face is unreasonably hot. This isn’t logical and he can’t quite care.

“Hey.” Natasha speaks softly. “Whether or not you can do it right now, you are capable. You’ll figure it out. I know you.” He feels her hand resting gently on his shoulder

Tears squeeze out and roll down his cheeks. He doesn’t even know why. This is just a braid. It’s not that different than anything Natasha taught him in the past couple weeks. Except, it hasn’t been just one thing, has it?

“Do you want to tell me?” Natasha’s hand squeezes just enough to remind him of her presence.

He takes a breath and hates how noticing it quaver wrenches it into sob. 

“Come on, sit on the lid. I’ll braid your hair. You don’t always have to be able to do everything.”

Bucky spends a silent moment, breathing raggedly, refusing his throat the right to sound, and sits in front of Natasha.

Tasha runs fingers through his hair, gently untangling the knots he managed.

He breathes

***

Natasha is quiet. Normally a quiet Natasha is scary. Normally it’s in a good way. This silence is less plotting the embarrassment of a teammate or enemy and more to do with whatever duet mission she and Clint just returned from.

Bucky doesn’t like it. Clint has been trying to reach her since she got back and and has  been firmly pushed away. Every time. With force.

One more anxious look from Clint decides it. Bucky bites his lip and moves to settle by Natasha.

“I need-” He breaks off. She often knows how to help Bucky so well he doesn’t realize until hours later. He’s still not sure he knows her or himself well enough to do the same. Well, fake it ‘til you make it. “I need to get out of my head.”

Natasha looks at him. Gaze sharp but distant. “Gym?” The usual hint of humor at an impending smackdown is missing.

Bucky changes tactics.

“Can we not? I’m getting the hang of working on my own head, but I want to practice on others and see how it really looks.”

She takes a moment then nods. If she’s not agreeing to all the layers of his question, then she really needs the mental cooldown.

Tasha leads the way, stiffly crossing to the elevator.

Bucky glances back at the remains of movie time. He nods grimly at Clint, receiving a tight smile in thanks.

They retreat to Natasha’s bathroom. Bucky hopes Natasha’s association between comfort and the space is as strong as his.

The room is reassuringly warm even as the cold tile keeps focus on the here and now.

“Sit on the tub?”

A grunt of assent Natasha proceeds to perch like a wary cat on the edge. Hm, Bucky’s not sure why he expected the room to make a visible difference.

“I’ve been figuring out five strand braids. Ready to be amazed?”

Natasha softens and he gets a nod. Good. She knows he’s here the way she has been for him.

He works in the quiet, separating her hair into four strands. The pattern and fingerwork take hold, weaving under and over rhythmically. Occasionally he grumbles under his breath when he has to go back and fix a mistake. The sounds of breathing ease from controlled to relaxed. Bucky moves on to five strands as Natasha’s spine slips out of precise vertical alignment.

They’ll be fine. That’s how the team works in the here and now. Someone is there to help pick up pieces.

***

“You have the basics. Now you’re going to learn how to separate your hair into sections so you can theoretically do milkmaid braids. Whether or not they look good on you, it’s a step toward many things.”

Bucky tugs the newly placed hairband back off. Natasha selects a comb as he unravels his neatest braid yet.

“You’re trying for the cleanest line you can get. Use the first tooth to draw a line down your scalp, like this.” Bucky mimics Natasha’s gesture. “With your other hand, separate the strands you’ve picked up.”

Bucky pulls the last tooth of the comb back through his hair, and pulls down the wisps clinging to the comb. Bucky is going to call the part he just made “wandering”. That’s why he’s playing with it though, so oh well.

***

Nat just left to “remind” Clint that certain snacks are not to be touched. Natasha maintains that Jarvis is very helpful in managing ownership of comfort food. Bucky maintains that he never touched the apple chips and there is no need to have Jarvis send an alert when people open that cupboard. Also, though never to Natasha, that Jarvis allows Tony free access to anyone’s healthy snack foods. Bucky is silent on the fact that Jarvis extends the same to whoever takes such snacks to share with Tony.

The point though, is that Bucky is alone in Natasha’s bathroom and is decided that Natasha wouldn’t know if he played with the makeup for a few minutes. He even knows where the remover is, so Nat need never find out.

He starts with the eyeshadow. Shuffling through the little tubs and boxes, he finds a tempting light and shimmery color in a big set of monochromatic greys and whites and blacks. After a brief internal struggle over whether to use Nat’s makeup brushes, he smears and pats it on with fingertips. Bucky suspects Nat would cringe at his application but he’s not going to bet on being able to perfectly conceal his use of the brushes. This is just for fun anyway. It’s not like he cares, too much, about the result.

He frowns at the uneven streaks and pulls out the first blue he finds. More carefully this time, using a different finger, he discovers that it conceals the mistakes he made last time and is also a glittering electric blue. Very glittering.

The first smidgen of unease tickles across the back of his neck and he dismisses it as escaped hair, rather than the possibility of being discovered.

Oh well. He decides to go all in and pulls out a glitter green and purple as well. He can’t remember how peacock tail feathers go, but Bucky is certainly not the sort to let that deter him.

The green and purple go on. Perhaps the areas of color are a bit big, but hey, he was down to ring and pinkie fingers. Eyeshadow finished, Bucky discovers the joy of removing glitter makeup from any patch of skin.

The pads of his fingers still shimmer as Bucky restores the eyemakeup to its proper place and starts in on Nat’s lipstick collection. He knows exactly what color he’s looking for, and he knows Natasha has it.

Tony once woke up, in the middle of a minor prank spree, with red and gold Iron Man lipstick.

Bucky fails to find the tube. Even after learning how best to hold the slippery plastic tubes in his metal hand and covering the back of his flesh hand and circle his wrist with test streaks. Captain America’s shield colors, however, are conveniently bundled together. Bucky extracts the red from under Natasha’s note to give the set to Steve to curry favor if needed.

He hums as he tries to apply the lipstick the way he remembers his mother and sisters doing. Mouth stretched long and attempting not to smudge any outside his actual lips. He completes his circuit and purses his mouth to take stock. A bit off course on the right side. Unacceptable.

Bucky wipes it away with a wad of toilet paper and tries again. His focus is complete, his hand steady. Slow smooth strokes, that’s right, just like that. Keep up the calm precision that lent itself so well to sniping. Concentrate on the shape.

The door clicks open. Bucky sees Natasha, then whips his eyes back to the mirror to see the single streak tearing from his upper lip through the stubble he hasn’t bothered with for a few days and nearly to his ear.

Nat looks at him and the hand under her chin creeps up to hide her mouth. He can still see that hint of humour growing though.

Bucky slowly, deliberately, sets down the tube and slides it underneath the pile of bows Natasha dragged out earlier. Bucky stares at his reflection as Natasha breaks down laughing.

***

“Nice crown. You’re picking this up fast.”

“I…” He smiles faintly. “I like it. You know why.” He reaches up, running his fingers over the braided circle lightly. “No one can stop me. This is mine.” His hands drop and he turns from the mirror to face Natasha. “Thank you. For teaching me.” He feels timid, though much less so than the first time Natasha abducted him for tutoring. His smile and voice both feel more fragile than he wants to show, but, he’s also beginning to think that may not be as terrible a thing as he used to believe. “I would never wish it on anyone, but you know-” The knot in his throat chokes his voice. “You know. And…” He clears his throat. “Thank you.” Bucky musters a smile for her even though the edges tremble. “You’ve helped more than you know.” 

“I have a guess.” Natasha inserted one last bobby pin and turned to him.

“Thank you.” He says. Natasha knows he can do things on his own, but makes sure he knows he doesn’t have to. Unless Tasha was in the process of dealing with an issue, he could ask for some time, and, within the next few days, they would be ensconced in Natasha’s craft of appearance and presentation. Bucky always felt at least a bit better after a few hours of concentrating solely on making his hair pretty.

***

Bucky twists the last wisp under the bun and sticks in 3 more bobby pins. Just to be sure.

In the mirror, Natasha smiles. Bucky leans forward and twists his head, trying to see the sides and backs of his braided pixie buns. Out the corner of his eye, he sees Natasha duck under the counter once more. “I thought we were done for today.” He says.

“We are.” Natasha stands, a small bucket of spray cans in her hands. “But I thought we’d just finish off the look before we go up to dinner.” Her smile widens. “Can I color your hair if it comes out in just a couple washes at most?” She begins setting spray cans out in a row, rainbow caps glinting in the light.

“If you let me do this and see Steve’s face I will give you these.” She picks up a box of clear crystal twist in pins.

Bucky stares her down for all of 30 seconds before snatching the box. He retrieves the rolling chair from Natasha’s vanity and sits in it. Looking Natasha straight in the eye, he says “Do your worst.”

The smile light up Natasha’s with glee and anticipation.

He sits, eyes and mouth closed just in case Natasha misses with the spray cans. The process is familiar, if a little less tactile than he’s used to.

The last can clicks down onto the counter. “What do you think?” Bucky can hear the happy lilt in Natasha’s voice, and decides the whole color thing is slightly more agreeable.

It’s… something. “When you said color I assumed it was one.” There’s a veritable rainbow, albeit mostly in darker, richer tones, in his hair. One of the buns is mostly turquoise, and the other fades between pink to purple around it. There’s a spot of nearly lime green resting above his ear like a flower, and the hair around it is a dark forest color trailing away down the hairline on the back of his neck. Bucky thinks the transitions between the colors are remarkably smooth for the spray cans Natasha was working with. He’s seen some elaborate graffiti since the final wipe, but his head is a different shape and small relative to the walls he’s seen. “Huh…”

“Opinion?”

“It’s… okay. I’m not gonna run and dye my hair or anything, but it looks kinda good.” He leans closer to inspect his reflection in the mirror. The darkest areas seem to-

“Natasha? Glitter?”

Natasha shrugs airily. “I picked up the wrong bottle. Several times. Oops.” Natasha’s voice is entirely too flat to be repentant. “Now you have space hair. Whatever shall you do.”

“Shed glitter on  _ you _ .” Bucky pouts.

Natasha hums and tilts her head. “But then I wouldn’t offer to finish the look with makeup. I’ll put the pins in too.”

He can feel his expression twitching to follow Natasha’s tone. Oh well. If he can’t give some of the glitter back, he can give it to Steve instead. Serve him right for the time he tried to make Bucky go out and socialize in the middle of pride.

“Fine. Sure.”

“All right. I promise I’ll only do just enough to match the hair, and it won’t be rainbow.”

“No glitter either.”

“You’ll get glitter on it anyway you know.”

“No extra glitter.”

“Fine.” Natasha smiles indulgently. “Now, close your eyes. This bit can be a surprise for you too.” He hears her opening drawers. “I’m going to make you look dramatically beautiful instead of merely handsome.”

The brushes lightly tug as Natasha applies the eyeshadow, foundation, and blush still feels just as odd and feathery as the other time Bucky accepted Natasha’s makeover. Still, the process is relaxing. He finds the small sounds of makeup reassuring as Natasha uses different containers, snapping open or shut, the gentle grind of screw caps, and different brushes clinking down on the counter.. He trusts Natasha unless she takes in mind to prank him. She did  _ seem _ satisfied with the combination of rainbow and glitter. That is not, however, a guarantee that the makeup will be safe. Bucky can’t follow what she must be doing to his face. He belatedly hopes it isn’t clown makeup.

“Keep your eyes closed. I’m putting the pins in for you.”

He releases the box of sparkly pins.

Light, barely felt, touches let him track most of the pins as Natasha places them. His mind drifts pleasantly until Natasha pats his shoulder.

“Open your eyes.”

Natasha smiles over his shoulder and he feels the now familiar affection for team, family and friends. He tilts his head to take in the flashes of light floating like stars in his hair. The makeup is light, emphasizing his lips and eyes. Bucky side-eyes Natasha.

“I look like I’m trying to impress someone.”

“How about  _ yourself _ ?” Natasha’s smile sharpens. Bucky suspects an ulterior motive, but at worst, it’s probably benign this time. Natasha gives his shoulder one last pat before pulling away. “Let’s eat.”

***

Natasha leads the charge into the dining room full of their unsuspecting friends.

Natasha coughs, causing everyone look over, everyone but Tony, who appears to have faceplanted directly into the table after a workshop binge.

Bucky swears he can feel the actual, physical, manifestation of Natasha’s smugness increase as eyebrows widen and jaws drop. Even Steve, who knows how well Bucky cleans up, looks pleasantly surprised.

Well. This  _ is _ the first time he’s dressed up since coming home.

Steve’s smile turns smug as he pats Tony on the shoulder. Ah. Yes, Bucky had wanted to forget how infuriating Steve’s “I told you so” attitude was. That was one reason Bucky liked Tony. Tony didn’t feel any compunction against pointing out holes and logical flaws in Steve’s grandstanding.

Tony groans, sitting up and smearing the grease on his face even more. “Yeah yeah, I’ll go clean up-”

Tony looks up.

“Woah.”

Bucky refuses to give Natasha the satisfaction of checking her reaction and instead opts to ignore all of them and sit down for dinner.

It looks lovely.

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to talk to me, I like hearing your thoughts, whatever they may be.  
> Concrit is welcome and so is incoherent rambles if my fic was good enough to induce them. I do want to learn how to give people more and bigger feels as well as keep characters true to themselves even though I take canon as a vague suggestion rather than canonical truth.


End file.
